


Lessons in the Library

by DogStar234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M, James Potter Lives, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DogStar234/pseuds/DogStar234
Summary: Harry’s father was so much younger than hers. He didn’t look old at all, and he washandsome.She snuck another glance at him over her book, trying to hide it by taking another sip of whiskey.“Something on my face, Granger?” he asked with a smirk, and she shook her head.Hermione spends an eventful night with Mr. Potter in the library at Grimmauld Place after the attack on Mr. Weasley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione is 16, which is the age of consent in England, but not an adult. Set during the Christmas break during Order of the Phoenix in an AU where James survives the Halloween attack, but Lily doesn't.

Hermione was curled up in the library at Grimmauld Place, flipping past page two-hundred of the Grimoire on Family Magicks. 

She was bone-tired after visiting Mr. Weasley at St. Mungos and she couldn’t get the image of Neville’s poor parents out of her head.

The writing in the book she chose from the library was dull, but not enough to put her to sleep. There was still so much she didn’t know.

She nearly jumped off the little sofa when the door opened, and James Potter walked in.

“Mr. Potter,” she said. “What are they saying about the attack on Mr. Weasley in the Auror office?”

He barely seemed to notice her at first, but then glanced a little too long at the hem of her short nightdress. “How many times have I told you to call me James?” 

“Right, sorry,” Hermione said. “Harry’s not here.”

“I didn’t expect my son to be in the library at two am,” James said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “I had something I wanted to look up, after...well, everything.”

“I can leave,” Hermione volunteered, but he shook his head.

“You’re no bother,” he said plainly. “I’m going to pour myself some firewhiskey before I find this book I need, would you like some?”

Hermione heard a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Mrs. Weasley telling her to leave, but she nodded, and accepted a full glass from him. Their hands touched, and Hermione felt a frisson of something run through her.

Mr, Potter sat down next to her with a copy of Cutter’s Treatise on Soul Magic Volume IV and a very full tumbler. He took a sip, and motioned for her to do the same.

It burned, but not in an unpleasant way.

“It’s the good stuff,” he told her. “Nothing but the best for Sirius’s horrible family.”

Hermione nodded, as if she had any idea about firewhiskey quality.

James opened his book and started reading, flipping to a chapter like he knew what he was looking for and she did the same, ignoring the very male presence next to her.

Harry’s father was so much younger than hers. He didn’t look old at all, there was barely any grey in his hair, and he was _handsome_.

She snuck another glance at him over her book, trying to be as subtle as she could. It didn't work.

“Something on my face, Granger?” he asked with a smirk, and she shook her head.

He winked at her and returned to his reading. A few minutes later, he snapped the book closed, and tossed it on the ground, his brow furrowed with worry. Harry made the same face so often these days, ever since Voldemort returned and the wizarding world kept calling him and his father liars.

“What did that book do to you, James?” she asked instead of pointing that out to him.

“It’s not the book, so much as the contents,” Mr. Potter said, running a hand through his thick, unruly hair. He really was very attractive.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I hate this house. Not as much as Sirius of course, but I hate this house and these books, and I hate the rubbish fucking ministry that has us confined here when I’d like to be at my own home with my son and my best friend instead of in this snake pit.”

Hermione nodded.

“It's bad enough for me. I don’t know how you stand it,” he said. “The house must feel worse to someone like you.”

Hermione dug her nails into her palm, and got up the courage to look him in his hazel eyes. “What, a mudblood?” she all but spat the last word.

“I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes,” James said, taking another sip of the firewhiskey. “I’m not a blood purist, Harry’s a halfblood, my wife was like you, but generations of wizards and witches who hated muggles and muggleborns lived in these walls and the magic remains, can’t you feel it?”

Hermione closed her eyes. She could, a little. The place didn’t feel right to her. It never had, there was always something a little malevolent lurking around the corner, but she had chalked that up to paranoia.

“It’s in the walls, the same way my parents house felt full of love,” he explained. “This place brings out the worst pureblood instincts in men, I think,” James muttered, before refilling her firewhiskey glass.

She took another sip, it burned less, or she was getting used to it. “I think I understand.”

“You really don’t,” he said sharply.

Hermione wanted to argue with him that there’s nothing she couldn’t understand if she tried hard enough, but the room felt colder, and she shivered. 

She put the glass down and folded her arms across her chest after she noticed him staring.

“I could help you with that,” James said, standing up and transfiguring a couch curtain into a thin blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders, and she smiled a thanks. His magic was impressive, he made it look like he wasn’t even trying with the transfiguration.

“I should probably go to bed,” Hermione said, finishing up her whiskey.

“You probably should,” he agreed before sitting back down next to her. His thigh was touching hers, and she didn’t know if she wanted him closer or out of the room entirely.

“If you tell me to stop, I will, at any point,” James said suddenly, before pinning her down beneath him on the sofa. He felt so big on top of her.

His mouth went to pepper kisses down her jaw and neck, and it felt _good_ and _too hot_ and _wrong_ and Hermione let out a moan. She thought about asking him to stop, but she didn't want him to. Not yet.

Mr. Potter shot off a silencing and locking spell toward the door, and Hermione wiggled beneath him.

“Keep squirming,” he said, “I like it.”

She ran her hands down the broad expanse of his back, and he grinned back at her, something sharp and predatory in his gaze. 

“Hands up,” he told her, and she lifted her hands above her head, like she was told, clenching her thighs together from the building heat in her core.

He lifted her nightdress up over her head, exposing herself to him. His mouth went down to her chest, and he sucked a nipple, biting lightly, before moving onto her other breast.

“You’ve got great little tits, Hermione,” he told her, and she blushed, and moved to cover herself, but he pinned her hands with his left hand and dragged her knickers down to her ankles with the other. 

She kicked them off, feeling so vulnerable. He was still fully dressed in his ministry robes, grinding his hard length on top of her.

“Have you done this before?” he asked her, gliding his hand down her sides, before lazily tracing the folds of her cunt.

She nodded. She had, once, with Viktor. And it didn’t feel like this.

“With my son?”

She shook her head. “Harry’s my best friend.”

“Good, I can feel less like a monster,” he muttered, before sliding a finger up her folds to find her clit. He played with her lazily, before pumping another finger deep inside her, finding an easy rhythm in and out.

Hermione felt herself grow wetter, the warmth inside of her growing, her whole body flushing. Just when she felt on the edge of orgasm, he stopped his ministrations.

Hermione made a small noise of disappointment, and he laughed before fumbling with his trousers, pushing them down to his ankles. 

His cock was long and thick and hard, and he pumped his hand around it a few times before positioning himself above her.

He kissed her neck before guiding himself inside, pushing in roughly in a swift movement. It hurt for a moment, and to his credit, he stopped moving, giving her a second to adjust to the feeling of fullness.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and a second after she nodded, he started to move again, fucking back in and out of her.

“You feel so good,” he moans, his voice hazy with sex and pleasure and Hermione felt proud of herself for a moment for making him feel like that, but all she was really doing was lying there and taking his cock.

She squeezed against him, fisting her hands in his hair, trying to match his frantic movement. 

“Good girl,” he replied, and she moaned. She got rewarded with his hand making its way back to her clit for her efforts. That made it better, she closed her eyes, feeling like every nerve was on fire with pleasure, and she was so _close_.

He came a little while later, his thrusts speeding up before spilling inside of her with a loud cry. She cradled his head as he pulled his softening dick out, and he looked down at her naked body as he pulled his trousers back up.

“Don’t worry,” he said, pulling her prone up against his chest and playing with her tits. “I’m not letting you out of here until you come too.”

All Hermione could do was nod as he spread her legs and rubbed against her clit, finding a constant pressure and rhythm that worked for her, pleasure building up inside her until she shook in his arms, coming around his talented fingers.

He put her down on the couch, and cast a silent cleaning charm over them both, and tossed her knickers and nightdress at her.

“You’ll want to use the loo after, there’s a morning-after potion behind the cabinet that Sirius keeps for his dates,” James said. “Will you be okay with what happened, or would you prefer me to obliviate the evening?”

Hermione’s hands were surprisingly steady as she pulled her dress back over her head. “I can manage.”

“Right,” James said, picking up the soul book he had dropped on the floor earlier. “Sweet dreams, Hermione.”

He left, and she watched him exit the room. 

Harry couldn’t know.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the last night before Hermione was heading back to Hogwarts, and she hadn’t been alone in a room with James Potter since he fucked her in the library. 

She had tried to catch his eye at the dinner table or in the hallway and she waited for him in the library, but he was never there. 

He was putting in long shifts at the Auror Office or talking in hushed tones with Sirius and Remus, or letting Harry shout at him until he wore himself out.

She was impressed with his patience and ability to avoid her, but she _needed_ to talk to him.

She knocked on the door to his bedroom in Grimmauld place, it was so late, but the light was still on.

“Come on in, Hermione,” she heard, the door swung itself open.

She walked in, and it slammed shut and locked behind her. 

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, staring at his hazel eyes.

He was in a very fine burgundy nightrobe that was loosely tied at the waist, exposing much of his chest.

“Neither Harry nor Sirius would have knocked, and I doubt any of the Weasleys have business with me after midnight that can’t wait until the morning,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Have a seat.”

She sat on the edge of his bed, and took a deep breath.

“I don’t regret what happened with us,” Hermione told him, and she didn’t. It was a learning experience, and mostly pleasant.

“I do,” he replied, and winced when he saw how her face fell. “Hermione---no. You were fantastic, I enjoyed myself, probably too much, but you’re so young. If someone, I don’t know, Mrs. Weasley, did the same with Harry, I’d get myself thrown in Azkaban from cursing them.”

Hermione gestured to him. “Look at you! You’re not exactly Mrs. Weasley.” 

James laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. “Maybe not, I’m at least a decade younger than her, but Hermione, it shouldn’t have happened.”

“I hadn’t had an orgasm with another person before, you taught me how good it can be,” Hermione protested.

James sighed. “Have you been with many people?”

“Just the one,” she confessed.

“And he was your age?”

“He was 17.”

“Well, there you go, it’s just your age.” James said. “It’ll get better. Sex is mainly about confidence, and knowing your body and what feels good, it’s a different kind of magic.”

“You’re confident,” she replied.

“I am that, yes. I know my body. But I wasn’t even focused on your pleasure,” he said. “It was just fucking, and I was very selfish. You need to find a boyfriend who will learn what you like, who can use his mouth and fingers to see how many times you can come, someone who will worship your body and you can do the same to him.”

His voice went straight to her core, she felt ridiculously turned-on and they hadn’t even touched.

He misinterpreted her look, and kept on talking. “Hermione, you deserved better than me using you because I’m stressed about Voldemort returning and what it means for Harry, and I’m bone-tired from dealing with his misery in this evil house—not to mention how unhappy Sirius is here—and I work all day with a ministry who thinks we’re all lying attention seekers. Not that those excuses count for anything, like I said, you deserve better."

Hermione swallowed. “I do, you're right. You can make it up to me by trying again. I’m stressed too—there’s no room for me in this world if Voldemort wins. I could also use a distraction, it’s not all about _you_ , James Potter. ”

James laughed again, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He was really so handsome. “You are a brave little Gryffindor, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“Come here then,” he said, his voice deep and husky, and she crawled across the bed to meet him. He kissed her, soft and sweet, and twined his fingers in her bushy hair.

“This is lovely,” he said when he pulled away, letting a curl spring out.

“I like yours too,” she confessed, dragging her fingers through his messy mane.

He smiled, and let her untie his robe, breathing heavily as she ran her hands down his toned chest. 

He was fit, but several curse scars were white and raised against his tan skin and she moved down to kiss them.

He pointed to one that crossed just above his belly button. “Got that one from Bellatrix Lestrange, she nearly bisected me open,” he confessed. “And that’s from the first time I escaped from Voldemort,” he said, gesturing to another that was just above his collarbone.

She kissed them both, sucking gently on the raised flesh. They meant he survived, and that was beautiful.

He slipped his robe off entirely, and this time, he was naked beneath her.

“You can take your glasses off too,” she suggested, but he shook his head.

“I want to get a proper look at you,” he replied, hands playing with the hem of her nightdress. 

She pulled it up over her head, baring herself completely to him.

“No knickers, huh?” he observed. “Bold girl.”

She blushed, and he shut her up with another deep kiss, as his hands explored her body.

“Lie back,” he commanded, and she did. He put a pillow underneath her hips, and she let him open her legs wide.

He gazed at her, and she had never felt so exposed.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to like this,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eye, before lying down and putting his face between her legs. He licked a stripe up her thigh before moving to where she wanted him, burying his tongue deep inside of her. No one had done this to her before, it felt even more intimate than being fucked, and absolutely amazing.

She was so wet and his tongue was sucking on her clit and it hadn’t been very long but she felt consumed with pleasure from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

She cried out, her orgasm taking her by surprise, but he kept on licking, riding the crest of her orgasm, before resting his head on her stomach.

“You’re so responsive,” he said as she curled her hands in his hair. 

“I liked that,” she confessed, once she felt like she could breathe enough to speak.

“I did too, you’re so sweet,” he said. He sat up, and she noticed just how hard he was. 

She reached out to touch him, but he grabbed her hand instead, and pulled her up to a sitting position. 

“You might like it better if you ride me,” he said. 

“I liked it fine,” she argued, feeling nervous about taking it inside her. He wasn’t small. She knew that, but it looked bigger now.

He raised his eyebrows as if he knew what she was thinking. “Come here,” he said, and she sat on his lap.

“Just take as much and as fast feels good to you, you’re so wet, it’ll feel good,” he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, and raised herself up. She grabbed his cock and positioned herself above him, and sank down slowly, watching his face as she did it.

He was right, it was better. She started bouncing slowly, his eyes tracking her breasts, and both of their breathing was hot and heavy.

She felt full and tingle-y and alive, and she grabbed onto his arms for purchase as she rocked against him.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, and she sped up her pace, throwing her head back in pleasure and closing her eyes. She wasn’t one of the leaders of Dumbledore’s Army or a very talented muggleborn witch, she was just a woman, feeling nothing but warmth and sweat and pleasure that built up inside her until she was coming again, not stopping riding him until he did the same.

James pulled out and cleaned her up with a flick of his wand. She moved to go back to her room, but he pulled her against his chest, and tenderly pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Harry,” she said before dropping a final kiss to his jaw. 

He blinked at her. “He’s dealing with rather a lot at the moment, that would be appreciated. But I don’t regret this as much as I should.”

“I don’t regret this at all,” Hermione said, finding that she actually meant it. She was sore and fucked out and felt amazing and she would probably be able to sleep tonight.

Mr. Potter was a good teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. I do have more in this verse both written and planned. Plot ended up creeping in my porn, sorry about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. I have more random one-shots in this verse. Let me know if you enjoyed it.
> 
> -J


End file.
